


As Green as the Ragged Grass

by not_poignant



Series: Fae Tales - AUs, Oneshots and More [13]
Category: Fae Tales - not_poignant, Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Comfort, Contemporary AU, Dildos, Happy Ending, Kinkfest fill, M/M, Older Augus / Younger Gwyn, Overstimulation, Safewords, Sensuality, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Unsafe Sex, Wooden Dildos, age gap, like a landscaping arborist AU but with porn?, mutual showering, set in australia, this is actually ridiculously fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-06-23 02:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: Baby arborist and landscape-architect-in-training Gwyn ap Nudd finally - after years of work and training and odd jobs - has the opportunity to look at Augus Each Uisge's grand, closed garden in the Swan Valley, Western Australia. But it ends up being Augus who captures his interest and fascination.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically an [Augus and Gwyn Kinkfest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12913350/chapters/29503233) fill for the kink: Age Difference that became too long to put up as a single chapter and is now it's own...thing. (How surprised are you? Not at all). I apologise because the first chapter isn't porn heavy (everything else is), it's just flirting heavy. A three parter, all parts written, will start putting them up over the next month and a half.
> 
> If you're new to Augus and Gwyn, you don't need to know anything about them to leap into this story.
> 
> Quick glossary: Ute = utility vehicle.

It didn’t seem like such a big deal, picking up odd jobs here and there for extra cash. At first he’d just mowed some lawns, did some weeding, but as he continued through his landscape architecture degree, he decided to fall back on more of the skills he’d picked up while progressing through his arboriculture diploma. Back then, he’d had the spare time to work at a nursery, to volunteer at clean ups and weeding that happened in Regional Bushland and Bushland Forever allocations.

Now he had no spare time for the hours needed for part-time work, so it was bits and pieces here and there. He’d study on weekends, then – fingers still smudged with the inks and markers he needed for his drafting – he’d get dirt under his fingernails and sand in his hair and look over the gardens of the well-to-do.

Sometimes he wondered if they thought he was there because of his family connections, but the truth was he’d gotten the hell away from Sydney as soon as he could, and his family wouldn’t have so much as picked up a phone to wish him death by fire ants, let alone provided recommendations to their friends throughout Australia.

So it was word of mouth, the quality of his work, that built his reputation, and now he was in his third year and getting a chance to look at the gardens of Augus Each Uisge. A notoriously private mogul from Wales or Scotland, who sunk a lot of his investment earnings into Australian real estate and various business on the stock market provided they were focused on forestry or other renewable resources. He kept to himself, and though many of his clients had heard of him, few had actually met him.

Gwyn knew of him from when he opened the _Landscape Architect Magazine_ issue at the age of sixteen, staring at the headline ‘Western Australia’s Best Kept Secret Garden’ and opening to a fifteen page spread that featured one of the most spectacular mixes of native and exotic plants Gwyn had ever seen. All centred around several large lakes, each designed to serve as homes to freshwater fish, some even endangered. It had pushed him firmly from wanting to be an arborist, to wanting to be a landscape architect, just to have a chance to learn how to make something so exquisite.

And there, at the end, had been a photo of a man in his late forties; long, straight black hair pulled back into a ponytail, green eyes glaring at the camera, as though he was offended that the photographer had wanted a photo of the genius behind the garden. He was tan from spending so much time outdoors, had sunglasses pushed up into his hair, freckles smattered generously across his skin. Gwyn’s realisation that he might be gay had only been budding at that point, but he’d still bitten the inside of his lip and stared at that photo far more than was healthy.

After that, he’d mostly forgotten about it. He’d made polite enquiries – some people with huge landscaped gardens offered private tours – and was rudely knocked back by a member of staff, and that was that. He got to see many other splendid gardens, superlative trees, both exotic and native. He’d climbed the tallest karri trees in the world and learned how to diagnose trees by the health of their bark, their canopy, their root systems and core samples. He was often knee deep in study that involved both paperwork and practical research.

Every time he drove through the Swan Valley – on the way to Walyunga or John Forrest National Wildlife Park, or something else – he did fleetingly think about that garden and Augus Each Uisge, wondered if he still owned it, or if he’d sold it off and downsized. Wondered if it was still as beautiful, or if it had suffered from the droughts and bushfires that came.

Now, several years later, he left his car idling before the giant, black wrought iron gates, and pressed the button on the communicator feeling strangely unsettled, even though he’d had plenty of time to get used to maintaining the gardens of rich folk.

‘Gwyn ap Nudd, here for the seven am appointment regarding the gardens,’ he said as crisply as possible.

‘Look up to the camera above you please,’ said a smooth, cultured voice. Gwyn wondered if it was a butler or staff, or if it was actually Mr. Each Uisge. Probably not the latter, wouldn’t he be too busy?

Gwyn looked up and saw the surveillance camera – there was another matching it on the other side – and wondered who was looking back at him.

‘Drive up to the back entrance,’ the voice said. It was soft, masculine, but Gwyn couldn’t quite place the accent. ‘Take the left at the first fork, follow it around, and you will see a series of sheds. Park at the first one, I’ll be down in a moment.’

Gwyn nodded, then hurriedly said he agreed. The huge gates with their sharp spires were slowly sliding open. He got back in his car and looked at the surveillance camera again – it wasn’t that unusual, other clients had them – and drove down the driveway.

Immediately, Gwyn was impressed. The road wasn’t plain black bitumen, but dusky cobblestones in warm tones. Two stately carob trees, both at least twenty years old or more, towered over him, and then lawns of rolling green followed. The manor itself was hidden in the distance, behind a screen of exotics like oak, pine and aspen, but Gwyn could also see stands of Eucalyptus, Melaleuca, even Casuarina, with their long pine-like needles that wept down gently and had such a sweet sound when the wind played through them.

Gwyn turned left at the fork, looking at how the lawn dropped down towards a large manmade lake that had a healthy number of local, native plants within. He turned his focus back to the road, thought that maybe he was imagining it, but the gardens actually looked better now than they had when he was a teenager. Maybe it was because he knew how to appreciate them better.

The first shed wasn’t a small gardener’s shed made of aluminium Colorbond like so many gardener’s sheds, but a large brick building that could have fit at least four cars inside of it. Gwyn parked, peered inside one of the raised roller-doors to see enough gardening equipment that it was like being in a store of top end material. Even the way much of it hung on the walls, in its own place, made him look back at his own ute to the tools he’d brought with him. He wondered if he’d be made to use his stuff, or if he’d be allowed to access the tools in the shed.

He stood by his car, eventually sitting on the bonnet, and stared out at the eucalyptus trees used here for screening. They dropped their branches sometimes as a survival strategy, but none of them were too close to the sheds to be a problem, yet were close enough to give the impression of protection, concealment, to lend shade and that lovely green smell that Eucalyptuses had.

Gwyn heard footsteps on the cobblestones and looked over to see Augus Each Uisge wearing a facemask and removing heavy canvas gloves. His hair was tied back, had more silver in it than the photo Gwyn remembered, and there were crow’s feet around his green eyes. He was slender, hips narrow, and his clothing – over which he wore a white coat that was covered in sawdust – was that of a businessman who didn’t care what others thought of him. As he easily hooked off the mask, Gwyn swallowed. He was still…a remarkable looking man.

‘Mr. Each Uisge,’ Gwyn said, sliding quickly off his ute, sticking his hand out so he could shake Augus’. ‘Thank you so much for the opportunity, I’ve been so looking forward to-’

‘I haven’t actually given you any opportunity as of yet,’ Mr. Each Uisge said, giving Gwyn a quick, dismissive look and then walking around his ute to examine the equipment in the tray. ‘Aside from the opportunity to come within the gates at all.’

Gwyn dropped his hand.

‘Of course,’ Gwyn said.

‘You come highly recommended,’ Mr. Each Uisge said. ‘Also, call me Augus. Formal address should really be saved for the bedroom, shouldn’t it?’

He said it so easily, so smoothly, that Gwyn agreed before he realised what Augus had said. He stood there, blinking and feeling stupid. Could he say _I beg your pardon?_ on the first day of seeing a client?

Gwyn uncomfortably saw that Augus was no longer looking at his tools at all, but instead he’d bent down to stare at something else. Gwyn’s cheeks coloured when he realised exactly what Augus was staring at.

‘You have a Pride flag on the back of your car,’ Augus said. Gwyn was confounded by his accent. Was it Scottish? Welsh? Posh English? Posh Australian? A mix of all four?

‘Oh,’ Gwyn said. Then he said what would be one of the stupider things he was sure he’d say all week. ‘How did…how did that get there?’

Augus straightened, eyes narrowing in amusement.

‘Mmm, however did it?’

Gwyn was very much on the back foot. Was it a problem? He hadn’t even put it there himself. He’d just…Gulvi had dragged him to the Parade, and he’d gone, and then she’d slapped the sticker on before he’d realised and he just kind of left it there because he had enough of a rebellious streak to imagine the look on his parent’s faces if they ever saw it, and that made him happy to think about.

‘It’s not going to change my ability to work for you,’ Gwyn said, his voice harder.

‘I don’t know,’ Augus said, brushing sawdust off his coat. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘No!’

‘You’re not going to fuck my plants, are you?’

_What the hell?_

_‘No!_ I’m _gay_ , not a fucking pervert.’

‘Oh no,’ Augus said, laughing quietly as he looked into the tray holding all of the tools Gwyn had brought with him. ‘What a shame. I’m _such_ a fucking pervert.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘What’s that?’ Augus said innocently, eyes gleaming. ‘You keep your equipment in good condition. It’s obviously all been used, but minimal rust. I like that. I suppose you’ll do for now. The last few have been a _complete_ waste of my time.’

Just like that, Augus went from amused to all business, his face clearing so that it looked like he’d never smiled in his life.

‘You can avail yourself to any of the equipment in the shed, provided you _clean_ it before returning it. There is oil for the shears and similar, clearly labelled, within. At least you know how to use it. One of the poor saps that came here two weeks ago hadn’t oiled a pair of secateurs in his life. What an _amateur_. I’m not looking for someone who can lop branches, I’m looking for someone who can do it _well.’_

Gwyn nodded, quietly shoving all of the previous conversation underneath a rug in his mind labelled ‘was that conversation hot? Don’t think about it.’

‘I don’t trust you with anything _visible,_ so I’m sending you into the back left quarter. It’s quite rugged down there, a mixture of exotics and natives, all very experimental right now. But some of those trees do need shaping, it’s better if some of the branches go now before they put on their spring growth. Before you work, I want you to take a photo of the tree before and text it to me, and then one _after_ you’re done shaping _,_ and wait for me to respond. Don’t think that under-shaping out of cowardice will earn you any favours with me.’

This was a level of instruction Gwyn had never received before, but a part of him appreciated how exacting it was. There were right and wrong ways to shape and prune trees. There were correct ways to remove branches, to seal them up or leave them bare, and there were mixed schools of thought regarding how to shape. For shade? For the shape of the tree? For the harmony of the space? For the comfort and safety of other trees? For the comfort and safety of patrons?

‘What is your intention regarding that section, Augus?’ Gwyn said.

Augus paused, and Gwyn wondered if he was going to take back the fact that he’d told Gwyn to use his first name. But instead his lips only quirked.

‘Something that feels natural,’ Augus said, ‘but isn’t. If you’re not _terrible,_ you should be able to glean an idea of what I’m going for when you see it. The trees I want shaped are all clearly marked out with flags. Don’t rush. Don’t presume to get through all the trees in one day. As for the branches you cut, leave them. I chop some of it for firewood and cure the rest. Just make sure it’s left _neatly.’_

‘Yes,’ Gwyn said, resisting the urge to add a Sir on the end like he did with some of his lecturers.

A ringing from Augus’ trouser pocket and he sighed.

‘All right, get to work,’ Augus said, turning around and sliding his phone free. ‘I’ll text you my number after I’ve taken this call, so you can send the photos of your work to me.’

With that, Augus walked back towards a second shed, answering the phone in what sounded like fluent Cantonese. Gwyn wanted to know why he was covered in sawdust, and why he had the face mask and the gloves and also why he’d made all those comments about…

_Don’t think about it, you have to work to do._

Gwyn walked into the shed and smelled the oil, the metal, the leftover old sap that clung to the space and grinned broadly. This place was heaven, and he wanted to do a good enough job that he’d get to come back in the future.

*

Gwyn found a map of the grounds, and decided to take one of the small gardening buggies down so he could bring the gear he’d need to potentially climb trees without a cherry picker. He had everything else he needed, his cambium saver, his poly-blend ropes, his throwline and throw-ball. He was wearing his chainsaw boots, and had the ones with spikes just in case he needed them. He hoped that he didn’t have to worry too much about an official lowering zone, being far enough from buildings and cars. They were a pain to rig.

When he arrived, he paused. Augus had made it sound like a haphazard area yet to be landscaped, but it was clear that he’d been thoughtfully adding trees for some time. Pale silver birches, which were only stocked at a handful of rare tree nurseries, bare of leaves at this time of year. Alongside them, the white serpentine trunks of silver-gums, heavy branches weeping foliage. There was the beginning of wide, shady paths cleared out, and Gwyn followed one of them until it forked at a large lemon myrtle. It was in full flower, and Gwyn leaned in and smelled the native lemon scent, and then marvelled at this wild-yet-tamed space. It was his favourite sort of landscape to work in.

He spent thirty minutes walking around, getting a sense of the space, the trees. He could see the ones Augus had marked out, most of them nearest to the paths, so he likely wanted them shaped in a way that would stop them from leaning over or blocking the walkways too much, while keeping their inherent shapes. They weren’t too large, and Gwyn was mildly disappointed to not have any fifteen metre tree to climb, but then…it would make the day go a lot faster.

He checked over the first tree he wanted to work on, making sure there were no termites or anything making it structurally unsound, and then sent a photo of it to Augus.

After forty minutes of working, he sent the follow up photo. The tree had a major fork, didn’t actually require that much work, and he’d set aside the three branches he’d removed. He used wound dressing, because the time of year wasn’t ideal for pruning Eucalyptus trees, and took close up photos of that too.

Within five minutes he had a return text.

_\- Adequate. I want before/afters on anything else you work on. Be ready to head off by 4pm._

Gwyn was happy to get what seemed like a nod of approval from Augus, and spent the rest of the day working on the trees indicated. He took before and after photos of all of them. Some passed without comment. On one, he received a text that said:

_\- You removed my favourite branch. But I suppose this is why I’m having a stranger do it, I’d rather be annoyed at you than myself. The branch had to go._

Gwyn smiled crookedly at that, had no idea what to say, and kept working. At about one pm he realised he’d left his lunch back in his ute, which was a good ten minute drive away on the buggy, and decided he’d leave it. He wasn’t working with huge specimens of tree, and in some cases, didn’t need to climb at all. Some of the trees were only three or four years old.

At three, he returned and spent some time cleaning and oiling Augus’ equipment, and the equipment he’d used from his own ute. He placed everything back where it was supposed to be, and in the ten minutes he had remaining, he looked at everything else Augus had. There was even a cabinet filled with different raw materials for wound dressing trees, along with grafting and striking equipment.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned. The coat, mask and gloves were gone. Augus was standing there in a deep green shirt, black trousers, and was wearing a tie with a print of leaves across it. Formal, but not exactly what businessmen tended to wear these days.

‘You’ll do, I suppose,’ Augus said, walking into the shed and leaning against one of the counters, looking at Gwyn. ‘Coffee or tea?’

‘Sorry?’ Gwyn said, as Augus immediately walked away.

‘It’s a common question when inviting someone to share a polite drink,’ Augus said without even looking over his shoulder. ‘Come on, you’ve had a long day.’

Gwyn scratched the back of his head – his straw-like hair had changed texture because of the sweat still drying in it – and walked after Augus quickly, nervously.

‘You have a really incredible garden,’ Gwyn said.

‘I know.’

‘You did that interview with _Landscape Architect,_ and I-’

‘Which one?’ Augus said, taking Gwyn into the second shed which was filled with wood-working equipment and carpentry machinery. Gwyn looked around in surprise. Resting on a workbench was what looked like the smooth cylindrical top for a bedpost? Something similar? It wasn’t too large, and had bulbous ends.  He knew enough about wood-working to know it looked good, that Augus did professional work. He paused, staring at it. The thing wasn’t that long, maybe a small bedpost?

Gwyn didn’t know that Augus had been in more than one issue of _Landscape Architect_. Or at least, Augus hadn’t been in there since the one he’d seen when he was a teen. So Augus’ garden must have been in older issues that Gwyn hadn’t purchased?

‘A few years I guess,’ Gwyn said, his hand sliding gingerly over the wooden thing. It felt so smooth. The wood grain was like nothing he’d seen before. ‘Like three years.’

‘Feels like only a few months ago,’ Augus said, walking over to a coffee maker and brushing off some of the dust. Then he made a clucking sound under his tongue and took a cloth from the sink, cleaning off the coffee maker properly before turning it on. ‘I can’t tell if time is moving faster or slower these days. Yes, they do like coming round to take photographs of something, and then I have to deal with phone-calls for a few weeks, and then it stops. A pain.’

Augus looked up and noticed what Gwyn was looking at, and a wicked grin stole across his face that left Gwyn feeling flustered and confused.

‘Do you like it?’ he said.

Gwyn looked down at the cylindrical shape and shrugged.

‘I mean you’re good at what you do? What’s it for?’

‘You can’t tell?’ Augus said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Oh dear. Well, I can show you some of my finished work inside, if you like. Never let it be said that I’m not so haughty that I can’t show a young lad some fine woodwork.’

Gwyn swallowed. That whole- it had _all_ sounded like- Gwyn was probably reading into it. The guy was like fifty, and…

‘I work mostly in hardwood,’ Augus said, as he made them both coffees without asking what Gwyn wanted or if he even liked coffee. ‘A lot I don’t grow, actually, because it’s not worth it. Katalox, lacewood, ziricote. I’m _quite_ a fan of purpleheart too. But you need so many protections when working with the stuff. The dust causes nausea. Among other things.’

‘Is this like- A job? Or…’

Augus laughed. ‘It’s a hobby, young man. I can work the hours I choose, relatively, but everyone needs time for a hobby, don’t they? What about someone such as yourself?’

Gwyn shrugged, taking the coffee that Augus handed to him. After that, Augus didn’t move as far away again, stayed slightly within Gwyn’s personal space. Gwyn was taller than him, his shoulders were broader, but there was something about Augus that made him feel dwarfed. Gwyn took a sip of the coffee – unsweetened, black, but still good – and felt like _something_ was going on, and like he didn’t want to stop whatever it was from happening. Not yet, anyway.

‘Ah, hobbies, well… A lot of it’s… I tried to turn gardening and stuff into…a job.’

‘Oh dear, so you’ll need a _new_ hobby,’ Augus said, one side of his mouth curling up.

‘I don’t have…a lot of free time. I work a lot,’ Gwyn said. ‘University is covered by the government, but there’s my books, the other bits and pieces, rent and…equipment.’

Augus tilted his head at Gwyn like he’d discovered something curious. ‘Your last name is instantly recognisable _and_ quite unique for the country, I believe. You’re not pulling from some generous fund your parents put aside for you?’

Gwyn lifted his chin slightly. ‘No, Sir, I pay my own way. I like to be independent like that.’

As if they’d give him anything like a five cent coin.

‘Sir,’ Augus said, repeating what Gwyn had said, his gaze softening. After a few seconds, the expression vanished and he looked mischievous instead. ‘I do believe I asked you to call me Augus.’

‘Sorry,’ Gwyn said quickly. ‘It just slipped out. I do it with some of my Professors too.’

‘I have actually been to university,’ Augus said, like he was divulging a secret, ‘and it is my recollection – even back in the _olden days_ –  that _none_ of the lecturers – Professor or otherwise – liked to be called ‘Sir’ or ‘Miss’ and that they all rather preferred a first-name basis too. We’re not at _Oxford,_ are we? And you still call them that? That’s an odd hobby.’

‘It’s not a hobby,’ Gwyn said, realising Augus was teasing him. ‘It’s just a habit.’

‘It’s an interesting habit.’ Augus sipped at his coffee, lifted his eyebrows, and then gestured towards a door that must have led into the manor. ‘If you’re not too busy, I could show you the kind of thing I work on? Well, my hobby. I could show you the stock market, but there’s apps for that.’

Gwyn followed Augus as he turned and walked away, wondering just what he was getting himself into.


	2. Chapter 2

The inside of the manor was beautiful. Gwyn had seen the inside of a lot of very nice, oversized houses. His parents lived in one. His parents had gone for that whole Italian column look, with white and cream plaster everywhere, and marble, and gold facings made out of real gold, but to Gwyn it still all looked unspeakably tacky. He’d seen stark modernist houses that looked more like they were suited for the rise of a new Fascist leader than any kind of living space. He’d seen Greco-Roman style villas as some paean to gods that the owners had never heard of and didn’t believe in.

This was…different. First, he noticed the rammed earth bricks on the inside, giving the whole place a warm, reddish-orange glow. They must have been faced with different materials on the outside, because Gwyn would have noticed otherwise. Rammed earth bricks were so wide, so heavy, that every window sill was deep enough that it could be a resting place or a shelf. Turning into a room was an event, each wall a foot thick. On the ceiling were exposed wooden beams that looked like jarrah, and the flooring was wood too. There were rugs everywhere, all in greens or woven from natural materials.

Artwork hung on the walls, almost all nature pieces. Some abstract, some only indicative of subject matter by colour and vague shape, others so hyper-realistic that Gwyn thought one was a window into a garden. Even the lighting fixtures were mesmerising. Geometric, intricate wooden lampshades of a kind that Gwyn hadn’t seen before. They muted the light, made it warmer, gentler. Gave the place a sense of cosiness even though it was so large.

‘You have a very nice home,’ Gwyn said.

‘I know,’ Augus said. ‘It was one of the first of its size to use rammed earth. Did wonderful things for the industry in the state. Before that, it was only hippies using it as a cheap alternative and you could _mostly_ only tour one and two bedroom places as a result. But I got tired of opening my house to strangers. Well. Most strangers.’

Augus looked over his shoulder and winked at him. He turned forward again and Gwyn stared at his hair. Even tied up in a ponytail as it was, it still fell down straight below his shoulder blades. Black and white, thick and glossy. The silvery strands gleamed, and Gwyn found himself wanting to touch them.

‘How long have you lived here?’ Gwyn said, wanting to get a sense of his age, and not knowing how without just asking him.

‘In Perth? My family moved to Western Australia from Scotland about…ah, hm. I was thirteen. About forty years ago I’d say, give or take a few years. I’ve been in this house for three decades. Back then, the Swan Valley was becoming a desirable region, but not like now. It was a lot easier to get an acreage then.’

‘I didn’t think you’d be so open… You seemed like someone who didn’t talk much. Even in the interview.’

‘Depends on the person, I think?’ Augus said, walking past a large kitchen with more than one oven, more than one rangehood, a nice island in the middle. Even here, as with the garage, everything was meticulously organised.

‘I’ve been in a lot of bigger homes, but this is the nicest.’

‘Aren’t you a gem?’ Augus said warmly. ‘I don’t even get the sense that you’re trying to present yourself like some kind of sycophant. That’s just you, isn’t it?’

Augus turned, walked backwards, smiled mischievously at Gwyn, and then faced forward again. He was leading them down a corridor towards a room at the end with closed double doors.

‘I’m sorry if you think I was trying to suck up or something, Sir, that wasn’t- I’m just-’

‘I’d place a bet that you’re blushing very prettily right now,’ Augus said, his voice lower than before. ‘But relax, Gwyn. I liked that you followed all of my orders actually. A lot of arborists and horticulturalists often want to pull rank, without ever asking me what my own background is. What degrees I have. What knowledge. Does that look like a garden that doesn’t have a professional foundation to it? And they certainly don’t like me monitoring each tree they look after. But I have learned a degree doesn’t make anyone innately good at knowing how to respect living beings in a living space.’

‘That’s true,’ Gwyn said. There were definitely people in his course who were going to graduate, who didn’t understand just about anything they were learning, or only grasped five percent of it while relying on others to help them through assignments. He wouldn’t want most of his class to touch Augus’ mixture of greenspace, gardens and lawns.

‘It _is,_ isn’t it?’ Augus said, sounding smug. ‘A person can get a Financial Management degree, but I can guarantee you a lot of them will be left without the tools to turn that into something _good.’_

‘That’s what you do?’

‘It’s a part of it,’ Augus said seriously. He opened the double doors, and Gwyn walked a few steps into the room before realising it was Augus’ bedroom. He stopped, but Augus was decisively walking over to several large wooden display cabinets. The materials in here were darker; and Gwyn didn’t know most of the woods he looked at, though normally he could recognise the basics and most of Australia’s woodgrains. A window, where the sill was more like a daybed, and beyond it, Gwyn could see a wisteria that was lovelier than any other he’d seen. Augus must have planted that at least twenty years ago.

He wanted to take a look, but instead he joined Augus at one of the display cabinets and then his mouth went dry. He suddenly realised that what he’d been touching and running his hand over in Augus’ workshop wasn’t some kind of bedpost at all.

‘See?’ Augus said. ‘I sell them too. On Etsy, of all places. But bespoke wooden dildos are in high demand, once people know they can trust your craftsmanship.’

‘Oh,’ Gwyn said.

They were displayed proudly. Some standing if they had flat bases, most on their sides. About four to a shelf, with eight shelves per cabinet, and three display cabinets. Some were very realistic, with veins and the flares of mushroom-shaped heads. Others were vague hints of just a cylindrical shape, some wider at the base, some tapered at the top. Then there were others, ribbed or worked in ways to evoke…texture.

‘They’re…’

Gwyn had no idea what to say.

They were beautiful, and the wood grain was clearly the best of its kind. He didn’t recognise a lot of what he was looking at. But it was hard to pay attention to the kinds of wood Augus was using, when all he could think of was Augus _using_ these on other people.

‘You…have a lot.’

Augus had walked off to some other part of the room. When he came back, he stood behind Gwyn, close enough that Augus’ hip was touching the curve of Gwyn’s ass.

‘I do,’ Augus said. ‘But I’ve been working on this hobby for a long time.’

‘Huh,’ Gwyn said. ‘I didn’t- I wouldn’t have guessed.’

‘I’m about to be extremely inappropriate,’ Augus said, sliding a hand possessively around Gwyn’s side. Gwyn’s sensitive muscles caught, twitched, but he didn’t step away. ‘Would you mind terribly?’

‘Uh,’ Gwyn said, clearing his throat, unable to look away from all the wooden sex toys in front of him that Augus _made._ ‘Not- Not terribly.’

‘Lovely. Just lovely. I’m too old, you see, to bother with things like long, arduous spells of flirting. And you are quite beautiful. And you’re _gay,_ not a fucking pervert, as we’ve already established.’

Gwyn cleared his throat, thought that he may have leaned back into Augus’ touch without realising. He knew he should ask about whether he was going to keep his job, what this _meant,_ but he’d been vaguely into the idea of it back when he’d seen that interview as a teenager in high-school. Not that he was much older now. Old enough that his driver’s licence served as ID, but not for much else.

‘Do you want to choose one?’ Augus said. ‘I’ll even let you take it home, provided we know it’s a good fit.’

Gwyn’s ability to form any thoughts at all turned into mush at that point, and he just stood there, staring, his breathing shallow.

‘You want me to choose?’ Gwyn said eventually. ‘But- I… Maybe you should…’

‘I don’t know if you want to trust _me,’_ Augus said, pressing his mouth against Gwyn’s ear, his fingers curling in tighter. ‘I hope I haven’t given you the impression that I’m a very soft and sweet lover, because I’m neither of those things. I’d want to…challenge you, let’s say.’

Gwyn didn’t want to clear his throat, but he _had_ to. Augus’ fingers were stroking him casually now, his hip had pressed in closer. Gwyn was staring at a beautiful display cabinet of wooden sex toys – _bespoke wooden dildos_ – and felt like he’d worked pretty hard, maybe he deserved some leisure time, only…

‘How…challenging?’ Gwyn managed. His voice only cracked once. It was still embarrassing.

‘ _Hm,’_ Augus rested his chin on Gwyn’s shoulder. ‘I suppose it all depends, darling. I know nothing about you, and you don’t know very much about me either. I wouldn’t want to frighten you away.’

Augus’ hand dropped from Gwyn’s flank and moved back, gripping a handful of Gwyn’s ass easily, like they were long-time lovers. The possessiveness of it, compared to all the awkward fumbling encounters he’d had before now, was alluring.

‘Though,’ Augus purred, ‘you don’t seem _that_ frightened.’

‘I’m…’ Gwyn couldn’t think of how to finish the sentence as Augus’ little finger trailed up the crack of his ass, through the denim of his soil-spattered jeans. ‘I’m- I really- I should have a shower…’

That little finger tapping now, as though asking permission to enter, and Gwyn stared at all of the wooden creations in front of him and wondered just what Augus meant when he’d laughed and said he was ‘ _such_ a fucking pervert.’

‘We can arrange that,’ Augus said. ‘Though make no mistake, Gwyn, I will happily debauch you without. I don’t care either way. But you young things all care about cleanliness now, don’t you? Are the days of burying one’s nose in a sweaty armpit gone?’

‘I don’t…think so.’

‘I don’t think so either,’ Augus said, smacking Gwyn lightly on the ass. ‘Let’s get you into the shower. I very much want to see what you’re hiding behind all of this inconvenient clothing. Come along.’

Gwyn followed as Augus turned and walked away from him towards the opposite side of the room, a closed wooden door before him. He wanted to somehow check that he wasn’t dreaming, but no way would he make up the whole wooden dildo part because he didn’t know they existed. His brain wasn’t that creative.

‘I’m going to give you two safewords, if you don’t have any of your own,’ Augus said, as he opened the bathroom door and walked over to a large shower with clear glass panels. He turned the taps, adjusted the temperature, and then bent down and began to undo the laces on his boots which – it turned out – went above the hem of his black trousers to a little ways up his calf.

‘I don’t,’ Gwyn said, realising he was meant to reply. He toed off his sneakers, looking down at the black tiles.

‘I don’t usually use them,’ Augus said, ‘but I can’t be bothered spending hours getting to know all about your kinks when I suspect even _you_ don’t know. So safewords can be _expedient_ etcetera. So, say Yellow if you need me to slow down because everything seems a _tad_ overwhelming, and say Red if you need me to stop. Honestly I don’t see you needing them. We’ll start nice and easy today. And then, if we feel any sort of sympatico, we can see where it takes us. Doesn’t that sound simple?’

‘You’re a good negotiator,’ Gwyn said, undoing the button of his jeans and hesitating when Augus straightened and watched with avid green eyes.

‘I’d better be, with the job I’m in,’ Augus said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Now are you going to strip for me? Or are you getting into the shower fully clothed?’

Gwyn’s cheeks burned, he tried not to think very hard about what he was doing and whether it was stupid. He shoved his jeans and underwear down all at once, getting rid of his socks. He didn’t look at Augus’ expression as he pulled his shirt off with one hand. The sound of sand and dirt and bits of bark falling to the floor preceded the sound of his shirt falling.

‘So you _don’t_ bleach your hair,’ Augus said, amused. Gwyn looked down to his own pubic hair, resisted the urge to cover that whole area and the fact that his cock was very slightly hard. Too late anyway, Augus was just _staring._ ‘That, or you put in far too much effort for that very vague surfer look you have going for you.’

‘I don’t surf,’ Gwyn said.

‘Not even a little?’ Augus asked, smirking. He undid his tie and let it slide to the ground, then unbuttoned his shirt with one hand. He watched Gwyn the entire time. ‘So what is it like for you, then? What’s the appeal? That I have many years more experience than you do? That I’m your boss? Something else?’

Gwyn stared at the body that Augus was revealing. He wore his age well. He was still lean, with a trail of hair leading up towards his navel. His cock wasn’t hard, but even soft it was appealing; uncut, a good length. Gwyn wanted to run his hands over the hair on Augus’ legs. He wanted to…

Augus reached up and undid the hair tie, letting his hair fall straight down. It only made the lines of his jaw stand out more.

‘You didn’t answer my questions,’ Augus said, walking over and pushing Gwyn towards the shower.

‘I like your hair.’

‘Oh, really? That’s all?’

‘No, uh, I mean-’ The sound of water pouring around him now, a white noise background of heat that felt amazing, the showerhead way nicer than the one he had at home. He tipped his head back, letting his hair get soaked, and then his mouth opened when he felt fingers trail across his scalp.

‘What else?’ Augus said. ‘Tell me.’

‘I mean- That photo of you…from the magazine. I liked that too.’

_‘Oh,’_ Augus said, sounding thrilled. Gwyn wanted to see his face, but water that was too warm was cascading over him, and Augus had pressed in close behind him. ‘I’m a bit older now. I was older then too. Clearly not a problem for you? And you’re obviously not a virgin. You don’t have that tremulous shyness they can have.’

‘Is that a problem for you?’ Gwyn said.

‘Oh _no_ ,’ Augus said. ‘You are definitely not _any_ kind of problem for me. Mm. I think it might be best if you wash me first, and then we’ll finish up with you. Does that sound good?’

‘Okay,’ Gwyn said. He’d never showered with someone else before, but the showerhead and the shower was large enough.

Augus passed a container of shampoo to Gwyn, thoroughly wetting his own hair in the process. Then he turned his back, and Gwyn stared at the dip of his spine, the skin over his shoulder blades. The long ropes of hair that hid the white and silvery gleam now that it was wet. He reached out and trailed his fingers over it, from the back of Augus’ neck down.

‘I’ve never seen someone with hair like yours,’ Gwyn said. ‘You know, this long, and a…on an older guy.’

‘And do you like it?’ Augus said, sounding like he already knew the answer.

‘Yes,’ Gwyn said. He moved his fingers away reluctantly, squeezing some shampoo onto his palm, rubbing it over both hands. His fingers were less dirty than before, he’d washed them under the tap by the shed, but there was still sand and grit under his fingernails. ‘Will you…let me know if I’m doing it okay?’

‘Start at the top,’ Augus said quietly, though the command in his voice was still very real. ‘Gently work your way down. The tips won’t need much, and don’t rub them together please.’

So Gwyn stepped forwards and lifted his hands to the top of Augus’ head, and began massaging in the shampoo. He worked the shampoo in carefully, thoroughly, pressing his fingers in behind Augus’ ears, at the base of his skull, watching wordlessly as Augus tipped his head back and sighed. Gwyn didn’t want to stop touching his scalp, his neck, but he worked the shampoo down, sometimes returning to gather some of the foamy lather as he ran out. When he got to the tips, he was careful. Unable to help himself, he placed his hand on one side of Augus’ hips.

Augus stepped away, turning to rinse his hair and face Gwyn. His lips were turned up in that perpetual smirk, but his eyes were warm, those small wrinkles at the side creasing. Gwyn watched the suds as they trailed down Augus’ body, wondered why he’d never showered with anyone before. The shower spray wasn’t hitting all of him, but the day wasn’t cold enough for it to be a problem. He was impatient for things to continue, but it was so nice to be able to look as much as he wanted.

‘I bet,’ Augus said, as he reached for the conditioner and handed it to Gwyn, turning again to present his hair, ‘that a fair few of those young ones out there think you’re all about topping. Don’t they? Tall, muscular, the stereotype is all there.’

Gwyn used more conditioner, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stretch it as far as the shampoo. It felt good to be able to touch Augus’ scalp again. His fingertips traced his ear. Traced lines down his neck. His skin was soft, with a bit more elasticity lent to him by age. He had freckles on his shoulders, on his upper back, and when Gwyn pulled Augus’ hair to the side to see his nape, he even had a few there too.

‘I do top sometimes,’ Gwyn said.

‘Ah, you’re a versatile one then,’ Augus said. ‘Or was it just what life gave you?’

‘In the beginning, that was all that was on offer,’ Gwyn said, laughing softly.

‘And your familiarity with kink?’

‘I went to Club Freak once,’ Gwyn said, ‘before they closed down, but it wasn’t really a queer space. Mostly just straights. A lot of women came onto me and I just wasn’t really into it. So I left early.’ He massaged conditioner gently into the tips of Augus’ hair, and while he’d never had an interest in having long hair, there was a kind of appeal that reminded him of the weeping boughs of willows or certain Eucalyptus. It made Augus seem leaner, longer, and Gwyn felt like he was being hypnotised by the sensuality of it. ‘Uh, I…hooked up and the guy asked me to tie his hands behind his back so I did that. But not much else.’

‘A crying shame,’ Augus said. ‘Obviously if you sought out a club like that, you were curious.’

‘Uh huh,’ Gwyn said, taking the soap that Augus handed to him and beginning to rub it in his hands, creating woodsy smelling suds that reminded him of deep pine forests. He soaped Augus’ arms, his hands, his shoulders and back, dipping his thumbs so that they ran down Augus’ spine. At that, Augus moaned softly and arched into the touch, and Gwyn felt a burst of pleasure.

Gwyn didn’t know how thorough to be with Augus’ ass, so he crouched instead and focused on Augus’ feet, the backs of his calves, the soft skin of the underside of his knees, and the muscular hamstrings of his thighs.

He was about to just start soaping Augus’ ass, when Augus turned and looked down at him, taking the soap from Gwyn’s hands.

‘Stay there,’ Augus said. ‘Although, that doesn’t look quite comfortable. Perhaps you’d best kneel?’

Gwyn eased down onto his knees, and thought that Augus would get him to suck him off straight away. Instead, Augus focused on soaping his neck and jaw, his collarbones, his chest, watching Gwyn all the while. He was so sure of himself. He didn’t seem a single bit self-conscious, and Gwyn didn’t think he needed to be, but he knew a lot of men who were obsessed with the gym, obsessed with image, and Augus just didn’t seem to care about those things. He didn’t even dress like the successful businessmen that Gwyn had grown up around.

‘You’re kind of eccentric, huh?’ Gwyn said, as Augus placed the bar of soap back in its holder, returning lathered hands to his cock and balls, generously covering them before turning his body so that the water could wash it all away.

‘I’m ‘kind of’ a lot of things,’ Augus said. ‘Right now, I’m especially curious to know what your mouth feels like.’

Gwyn was nervous. He knew he’d not measure up to someone who was happy to flaunt their experience, their age. Augus had probably had…enough lovers to know what a really good blowjob felt like. Gwyn wanted to taste him, but he didn’t want to be terrible at it.

But Augus stepped closer and Gwyn licked the crease between thigh and torso, bracing himself with one hand on Augus’ hip and the other on his thigh. The bathroom smelt of Gwyn’s sweat – he still hadn’t properly cleaned himself – and the products he’d used to wash Augus’ hair, soap his back. He licked down Augus’ soft length, from the root to the tip, before taking it into his mouth.

It wasn’t until the head of Augus’ cock was resting on his tongue that he realised he’d forgotten to ask for a condom. A few seconds to panic about the risks and then that part of his brain was smashed down beneath his sheer want for what was happening.

He felt fingers resting in his hair, smoothing it down, gathering it up. Gwyn moved his hand, curled it around the base of Augus’ cock. Not even in his wildest fantasies did he ever think something like this would happen _for real._ He’d never imagined anything so elaborate. Whenever his brain went there, he was just being fucked or jerked off by this rich gardener and when Gwyn was feeling particularly imaginative, they were doing it outside. The fantasy lasted about as long as it took for Gwyn to come, which…wasn’t long.

He didn’t want to show his lack of experience, but he couldn’t help it, felt clumsy when he started working his head back and forth, when he tried to keep his tongue gentle because Augus wasn’t hard yet. He didn’t know if it was good, and Augus didn’t do much more than touch his hair, and he didn’t seem to be getting hard quickly at all. Gwyn could take Augus all the way to the back of his throat without a problem because he was so soft.

After a few minutes he eased back, looked up to see Augus gazing down at him, something soft in his expression.

‘Should I do anything different?’ Gwyn said. He kept his hand on Augus’ cock, gently moving it back and forth.

‘Aren’t you sweet?’ Augus said. ‘No. I’m in no rush. I’m no longer in my prime, dear boy, you’ll just have to be patient.’ Fingers tapped on the top of Gwyn’s head and then Augus’ smile widened. ‘Do you mind though, if I become a bit more physically demanding as we go along?’

Gwyn shook his head. He didn’t think so. Augus nodded, smiled, and then sighed like something annoyed him.

‘I suppose you’ll need a physical safeword for that too. Just tap me three times wherever if you need me to stop.’

‘You don’t like them?’ Gwyn said, worried.

‘There are other ways,’ Augus said, ‘to make sure everyone is on board with what’s happening. But it’s useful for today, darling. Tch, look at that face. Are you so concerned? You’re welcome to try using any one of the safewords whenever you like to prove to yourself I’ll listen. All right?’

Gwyn shivered at the palm that cupped his cheek. His worry was dissipating. There was something about Augus that he trusted. He didn’t know _why,_ exactly. Augus was far more forward and confident and blasé than anyone he’d ever met. Maybe it was knowing Augus had created and looked after that garden like it was a child for thirty years. But that didn’t mean he’d treat Gwyn well.

Still, he wanted what was happening.

‘It’s okay,’ Gwyn said quietly.

‘Only okay? How conservative of you.’ Augus smiled. ‘This is all going wonderfully. Don’t worry, you won’t be neglected, that I can promise.’

Gwyn’s cock throbbed in response.

Augus’ hand trailed back up into Gwyn’s hair and fingers tightened until he was pulling at it. Gwyn blinked up at him, Augus stared down, a gleam in his eyes.

‘Go on, then,’ Augus prompted softly. ‘I’m not getting any younger. Nor are you.’

Gwyn nodded, shifted so that he could slip Augus’ cock back into his mouth. He moved forwards, went to move back, but Augus’ fingers tightened in his hair. It hurt more now that it was wet, and he hissed out a breath through his nose, lips pressing into Augus’ pelvis, his pubic hair. One of Augus’ hands left his hair and dropped down, stroking the back of his neck, sending shivers down his back.

It was all good. He wasn’t sure what he expected from Augus saying he wanted to be more demanding. To be skull-fucked, maybe? It wasn’t like he had any idea what Augus was into, but so far he seemed to enjoy the sorts of things that Gwyn privately fantasised about anyway. There was a thrill in not knowing exactly what would happen next. He moved his tongue against Augus’ cock, sucked rhythmically, then moved his fingers back to Augus’ balls, touching the skin, gauging how he reacted. Not everyone liked it, and it had only ever made Gwyn feel chilled and nauseous.

But Augus only moaned lightly, his hips gently rocking forward even though there was nowhere left to go. Gwyn didn’t stop touching him, carefully increasing the pressure, but not wanting to hurt him. He didn’t get the sense that Augus wanted to be _hurt,_ the guy could ask for that if he wanted it.

‘Really,’ Augus said, his voice mingling with the sound of the shower spray, ‘I was just going to see if I could fuck you and send you on your way. This is so much nicer. I’m not usually such an opportunist these days, but who can resist? You did remove my favourite branch, after all, perhaps you deserve some kind of punishment. A singularly fun one, of course. Not a real one.’

Augus’ cock was thickening in Gwyn’s mouth, and he eased backwards just a bit – Augus letting him – so he wouldn’t choke straight away. He expected he might at some point, but it was good just to be able to breathe. He didn’t know how much girth or length Augus would gain based on what Gwyn saw earlier, but he was nervous and eager, his stomach tensing at the thought of what was coming.

‘All right,’ Augus breathed. ‘All right, darling. You have a lovely mouth, you’re so good with your teeth, aren’t you? I’d ask how much practice you’ve had to learn that, but I think you’re also just very sweetly considerate, aren’t you? What a doll you are. Now…’

Both of Augus’ hands tightened over Gwyn’s scalp again, and Gwyn sucked down a breath just before Augus’ hips shoved forwards hard enough that one of Gwyn’s hands flew backwards. There was nothing there to brace himself on, and Augus’ hands and arms were strong enough to hold him up, even though his hips were pushing hard into Gwyn’s face.

A shocked sound that never made it out of Gwyn’s mouth, swallowing automatically but not gracefully, feeling his throat spasm and the flood of hot saliva in his mouth that followed. Alarm warred with the warmth he’d felt from all of the sweet things Augus had been saying. As a boss, he’d been taciturn and businesslike. He’d expected he same now. He was surprised at how…generous Augus was, but perhaps he was just being nice before doing something that some found rude.

Gwyn didn’t care if it was rude, he suddenly wanted to know exactly what Augus meant by taking it _nice and easy_ today, what other things Augus would do to him, if they had the chance.

‘Ah,’ Augus sighed, ‘you _are_ entirely not what I expected based on when I saw you in my driveway, Gwyn ap Nudd. I don’t often love to be proven wrong, but perhaps you are an exception to the rule. Let’s take a look at you, and see how you’re coping.’

Augus drew back all the way, keeping Gwyn’s head in place. Then strong, biting fingers turned Gwyn’s head up, and Gwyn blinked up at him, his mouth still open, his breathing rough. Augus looked so pleased with him, and Gwyn felt like he was drowning in steam, water, Augus’ expression.

‘You’re coping _very_ well, aren’t you?’ Augus said, lifting an eyebrow, smiling at him. ‘See? I did say that you likely wouldn’t need any safewords today. We’ll see if that holds, hm?’

Gwyn wanted to ask how much experience he had. How he was so good at this. How he knew the right things to say. He wanted to ask if he thought Gwyn was stupid for doing this, but it was hard to feel like Augus would ever think anything like that, staring at Gwyn the way he was. It made Gwyn feel special, important, and he knew it was probably just years of Augus’ experience making him excellent at bedroom talk and charm, but…

It felt real.

‘It’s good,’ Gwyn said, swallowing. ‘Don’t stop?’

‘I don’t know whether to be happy or sad that I’ve met you now,’ Augus said wistfully. ‘I think you could have loved me when I was younger. There, listen to me now, old enough to be your father. But you _like_ that, don’t you?’

Gwyn’s cheeks were burning for more than one reason, and Augus tilted his head in self-satisfaction, and then looked pointedly down at Gwyn’s mouth.

Even as Gwyn leaned forwards, Augus was already directing him. He felt like he could relax a little, knowing that Augus would show him what he wanted. He almost wished Augus hadn’t just soaped himself, because all he could taste were the remnants of that and the water. He wanted more, but soon forgot about that when Augus directed Gwyn’s mouth to the base of his cock again, his length sliding thickly into the back of Gwyn’s throat. It was a tighter fit than before.

The rhythm Augus set at first was slow and easy. He’d push forwards, draw Gwyn’s head towards his pelvis, and Gwyn found it easier to welcome that cock into his throat each time. Then he’d withdraw, Gwyn would breathe, and so it would go. Augus didn’t even seem like he was fully hard for another five minutes, at which point Gwyn’s knees were aching on the hard tiles, but it was hard to focus on it, with everything else.

‘Very good,’ Augus said, his voice rich and kind, as though he’d been waiting all day to compliment Gwyn on his ability to kneel there and let Augus do what he wanted with his mouth. ‘Remember you can tap out whenever you want, dear one.’

The easy rhythm shifted at once, Augus’ fingers tightening harder and his grip becoming merciless. He moved quickly, several deep stabbing thrusts into the back of Gwyn’s throat, and then withdrew enough that Gwyn could cough, get control of his throat. But as soon as he was able to draw just one, small breath, Augus was pulling Gwyn’s head roughly forwards again.

The pace Augus set after that wasn’t easy at all. It brought tears to his eyes, bruised the back of his throat, though he didn’t once think of using any of the safewords that Augus had given him. He curled one hand around Augus’ thigh to feel like he had an anchor in the world other than Augus’ hands, and he concentrated on breathing whenever he could.

Augus moaned softly, especially after several deep thrusts, or whenever Gwyn choked. Gwyn was still trying to make it _good,_ making sure he was still using his tongue, that he was using suction whenever it was possible. He couldn’t tell how much of his lips and chin were covered in saliva or water from the shower.

It was the longest blowjob he’d ever given. He lost track of time, floating in a dull arousal that wouldn’t leave – he’d gotten fully hard when Augus had started guiding his head – and he wanted to get a hand on himself but had a feeling Augus would have an opinion about that. Everything came down to focusing on not suffocating too much when Augus didn’t want it to be easy for him to catch his breath in the first place.

‘I suppose the polite thing to do, would be to ask if you swallow,’ Augus said, his voice rougher than before. Gwyn couldn’t answer, not with the way Augus was using his mouth. He only sucked harder, strained forwards, hoping that would be answer enough. Augus made a breathless sound of amusement, and then kept Gwyn’s lips pressed against his pelvis while he undulated his hips, his cock grinding against the tender skin of Gwyn’s throat, his mouth.

Gwyn thought Augus would come then, but he didn’t. Everything became crueller than before, less considerate, and Gwyn’s fingers curled into Augus’ thigh and his other braced itself on Augus’ hip. He felt dizzy with the heat of the steam, the movement of his head, the increasing lack of air. Couldn’t quite control his mouth properly anymore, felt embarrassed to be getting so uncoordinated.

A couple of minutes later, when Gwyn was wondering if he’d have to tap out anyway just to be able to _breathe_ , Augus shoved deep and stayed there, and Gwyn knew he was going to come. One of Augus’ hands turned very rough in his hair, the grip like a vice. The other shifted so that he could stroke Gwyn’s forehead, his closed eyes, the outside of his cheek. Any part of his face that wasn’t pressed hard against Augus’ skin and pubic hair. A loud gasp that was amplified by the bathroom tiles, and then Augus moaned softly and came.

Gwyn swallowed as fast as he could, unable to even really taste what was happening. His throat had been well and truly worked open now, and tears squeezed out of his eyes as his chest tightened in its desperation for breath. He felt it spasm, his whole body working on trying to inhale. His cock felt heavy and needy between his legs, and he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to come so badly and hadn’t brought himself off.

‘A bit longer,’ Augus said quickly, words rushing together. ‘Just a bit.’

It was on the edge of too long when Augus finally withdrew, his other hand gentling immediately in Gwyn’s hair. Gwyn bent forwards, one hand catching himself on the tiles next to Augus’ foot, coughing and sucking down breaths, feeling embarrassed that he couldn’t be better about it.

‘I know,’ Augus crooned, bending down and sliding his hands beneath Gwyn’s arms. ‘I know, sweetheart. Come on, stand up for me. Your mouth was just begging for that, wasn’t it? Come on, Gwyn, you’re fine, darling.’

Gwyn’s legs were stiff as he stood, his muscles still tired from the work he’d done throughout the day. He was surprised when Augus – who was standing with his legs wider apart – encouraged Gwyn to lean against him. A hand stroking through his hair and encouraging his forehead to rest on Augus’ shoulder.

He could taste the remnants of Augus’ come now, bitter and thin and making saliva build in his mouth so that when he swallowed again, he felt he was still swallowing Augus down.

‘Intense, wasn’t it?’ Augus said, his voice gentle. ‘Are you all right?’

Gwyn nodded, turned his face into the curve between Augus’ neck and his shoulder.

‘There, there,’ Augus said, even though Gwyn could hear the smile in his voice. ‘You were _so_ wonderful. Didn’t put up a single complaint. I almost can’t believe you’re here. Ah, and you do have a splendid back, don’t you? I feel like you’re one of those gentlemen who just put on muscle without needing to do more than climb trees like Tarzan.’

Augus’ hand languidly stroked up and down Gwyn’s back, from the top of his neck all the way down to the crease of his ass, then back up again. Gwyn found himself leaning harder, even as he was worried for Augus’ ability to support him, but Augus seemed to be having no problems with it at all.

‘It’s all right,’ Augus said again. ‘Catch your breath. We need to pay attention to you too, don’t we?’

That hand on his back curving around his flank, moving confidently between his legs and curling around his cock in a way that had Gwyn arching into Augus needily, voice catching.

‘I’m so close,’ Gwyn said.

‘Of course you are,’ Augus said. ‘I bet you have a lovely refractory period and everything. Meanwhile I’ll be out of commission for at least an hour. But isn’t that just exquisite? There is so much I can do to you in that much time. But for now, darling, just breathe.’

Gwyn made a face when Augus’ hand moved away from his cock.

Augus stepped back then, and lifted Gwyn’s chin.

‘May I kiss you?’ Augus asked, a half-smile on his face.

Gwyn nodded. He was a little surprised, because he had assumed that maybe Augus just didn’t do that. Or maybe they wouldn’t do that. It was just a casual hook up, wasn’t it?

Augus’ eyes seemed to search his, as though checking for something, but then he leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Gwyn’s mouth, exploring carefully, sweetly.

It was at that point that Gwyn realised that he was more than a little lost to what was happening, and he hoped that he could have as much of this side of Augus, as he could the demanding, challenging side.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like you should all know that the working title for this chapter was 'The Fuckening' :D

Gwyn took a step back when Augus pushed him gently by the shoulder.

‘Now,’ Augus said warmly, ‘they’ll be a bit cold, sweetheart, but you can lean back against the tiles, can’t you?’

‘Uh,’ Gwyn said, unable to look away from the gaze raking down his body. He took several small steps backwards and his shoulders touched the tiles – they were cold – and he swallowed and pressed a hand to the wall when Augus placed his palms flat on Gwyn’s chest and dragged them down possessively, fingers moving over his skin, stretching until he was stroking Gwyn’s flank, the outside of his hips.

Augus’ thumbs curved inwards towards Gwyn’ groin, and Gwyn looked down at the fingers on him and shivered, then looked back up to Augus’ face to see if he was enjoying what he was doing. Augus was no longer looking down, however, but watching Gwyn’s face, a smile endlessly playing around the corners of his lips. His hair plastered across his shoulders, like a mermaid, or something far more sinister.

‘I thought we were going to fuck,’ Gwyn said awkwardly.

Augus’ thumbs inched inwards, into Gwyn’s pubic hair, until he was just brushing the underside of Gwyn’s cock, the sensitive skin of his balls.

‘We are,’ Augus said. ‘A blowjob is fucking in some circles.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I do.’ Augus stepped closer, pressing his mouth to Gwyn’s collarbone, his tongue trailing along skin, his breath hot. ‘You still have dirt on you. What a terrible excuse for a shower you’ve had so far, you’re still so sweaty and filthy, and you did say you wanted to be _clean._ Let me be a gracious host.’

Gwyn stayed against the tiles as Augus stepped away to fetch the bar of soap. He lathered it generously in his hands and then began to smear the suds over Gwyn’s body – from his neck downwards – in long, languorous movements that had Gwyn’s breathing turning shallow all over again. He gasped as Augus slid slippery, bubbly fingers up underneath his arms, and then stared in shock as Augus combed his fingertips through Gwyn’s underarm hair until Gwyn lifted his arms and Augus rubbed generously.

It would have been ticklish if the touch was lighter, but as firm as it was, it just felt really good. Gwyn had never been that sensual with himself before.

Hands soaping his ribs, his pecs, thumbing his nipples like they were particularly dirty, the white noise of the shower all around them. Gwyn felt himself arching into that touch, his nipples hard and aching, Augus’ eyes avid and not at all sleepy, like Gwyn would be after coming.

‘Feeling clean yet?’ Augus said. ‘Oh, but you can’t be, there’s so much of you I haven’t touched yet.’

‘Holy shit,’ Gwyn said, thinking he was speaking under his breath, and forgetting that the shower tiles amplified everything.

‘You are very flattering,’ Augus said, laughing as he ignored Gwyn’s cock entirely and bent down, soaping his legs, his calves, getting Gwyn to change his balance and lift each foot. And Augus paid attention to those too, rubbing soap along the arches, sliding his fingers between each of Gwyn’s toes, dragging knuckles along the bridge of Gwyn’s foot. His thumb nesting in the divot beneath Gwyn’s ankle bone, rubbing along his Achilles tendon and flowing back up over the back of his calves.

He skipped Gwyn’s ass too, instead turning him with hands on Gwyn’s hips so that he was facing the wall, and placing so much soap across his shoulders that it trickled down, pooled in the hollow of his lower back.

‘Getting cleaner,’ Augus said teasingly, as Gwyn thought that he’d never been covered in so much soap at once in his life. He’d never had a bubble bath, and wondered if this was what it was like. Probably not. But now he wanted to know.

Augus’ hands curved generously around his ass cheeks, slipping over them, cupping them, and Gwyn shifted his forearms on the tiles – careful not to slip, they still had soap on them – and felt those fingers like a revelation.

Soap slipping between the seam of his ass, tender and then firm over sensitive skin, and Gwyn moaned softly.

‘Soap will dry you out, eventually,’ Augus said, biting into his shoulder. Didn’t it taste disgusting? ‘But we’ll use lube later, for now… I feel like it’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? Did you slip soapy fingers into yourself in the beginning, when you were learning what you liked? Did you clean yourself _inside_ too?’

_‘Ah,’_ Gwyn gasped, at the slick index finger that slid straight into him, one smooth movement until Augus’ hand bumped into Gwyn’s ass.

‘I think you did,’ Augus said against Gwyn’s skin. ‘You’re not _that_ tight. Maybe you’re just relaxed.’

Augus drew his finger back, replaced it with a second, and worked his way inside the tighter space, twisting his fingers whenever he encountered anything like resistance. Gwyn panted, smelled the soap everywhere, felt the bubbles at the rim of his hole, fizzing away as they popped and turned to milky water. Augus’ fingers were fucking lazily into him, but even that was enough to have Gwyn dropping one of his hands down to his own cock, wrapping his fingers around himself.

‘Please?’ Gwyn said.

‘Tch, let me,’ Augus said, sliding his other hand around and pressing even closer, until Gwyn could feel Augus’ soft cock against his hip. ‘Let me, sweet thing, you can use your hand any time, can’t you?’

Gwyn dropped his hand and Augus’ fingers slipped over him. Grasped him, jerking him off, all of it slower than Gwyn liked for himself, but far more intense than whatever Gwyn had found on his own.

‘You can come any time you like,’ Augus whispered, ‘there’s no rules here, I’m not telling you to hold back, am I? You could have jerked yourself off and I wouldn’t have minded. But there you were, believing there’s all these _rules,_ thinking I’m your Dom.’

‘Aren’t you?’ He knew bits and pieces, enough to know that-

‘You’ll know,’ Augus said, laughing, his hand speeding up. ‘Besides, do you think I’d still make you ask permission to come? No, sweetheart, I want you to spill over my fingers. I want to feel your hole clench around me, won’t you indulge an old man? I can tell you’re close.’

Getting closer all the time, with Augus’ words. Gwyn pressed forward into Augus’ grasp, careful of his stance – the soap was everywhere now and Gwyn suspected if he so much as moved his foot, he was going to fall – and then his head tipped back when fingertips pressed and dragged down over his prostate. His breath caught, his muscles tightening, even up through his calves, his thighs, across his ass, settling low and heavy in the base of his spine.

He’d wanted Augus _inside_ him at this point, or those toys, but Augus’ fingers stroked persuasively, the hand on his cock firm, and Gwyn bit down hard into his bottom lip as he felt his balls draw up, his toes curling down into the tiles.

He went silent at the end, his breathing stuttering in his chest, and then he cried out after the first pulse of release, spilling onto the tiles, onto himself and Augus’ fingers.

‘What a good boy,’ Augus murmured to himself, still working him.

Gwyn didn’t know what he was, only it was a great orgasm, and it lasted longer than they normally did. Gwyn normally slid his own fingers out of his ass at this point but Augus kept them there like he just wanted to feel the warmth of Gwyn’s insides.

Augus’ hand slipped away from Gwyn’s cock, rubbing gently at his belly, and then trailing up and rubbing at his chest.

‘Take your time,’ Augus said softly. ‘But don’t fall asleep now. We have to get this soap off you.’

‘You want to keep going?’ Gwyn said, looking over his shoulder, blinking dazed at Augus’ happy, warm expression. Gwyn thought he’d do just about anything, to have Augus looking like that more often.

‘This is just an aperitif,’ Augus said. ‘I’m sure you know what one of those is, given your background.’

Augus’ fingers were still inside of him, moving – no longer directly over his prostate, which would have been too much – enough that Gwyn felt stripped bare, too seen. It would have been easier if Augus removed his fingers. If Gwyn could collect himself without his breath still hitching from what Augus was doing.

‘So you are a Dom, though?’ Gwyn said, clearing his throat. _Are you strict? Are you mean? Are you cruel? Are you kind?_

Augus lifted his eyebrows.

‘Is it rude for me to ask?’ Gwyn said.

‘Are you going to accept what I’m offering this evening?’ Augus said eventually, like it was the beginning of a riddle, ‘or are you pushing for something more? Don’t you just want to relax after the day you’ve had? You can let me look after you, can’t you? That mind of yours, so busy. I never would have guessed, honestly, but it seems like you’re not very good at settling into this.’

Augus slid his fingers free, and Gwyn felt empty and chastened all at once, looking back towards the tiles as Augus stepped away from him.

Had he fucked up?

‘Come here, to me,’ Augus said quietly, and Gwyn turned automatically, realised that Augus wanted him under the spray. ‘Be careful, we used rather more soap than was strictly necessary.’

Gwyn was careful. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by falling, and he could feel how the floor was slippery where he was standing. Closer to the drain, under the spray, it was better. He was surprised to feel Augus’ hands – now soap-free – moving over him, rinsing the soap away.

Was he just supposed to stand there and let Augus do that? It felt…not very participatory. Gwyn was used to being a far more active lover, and he lifted his hands awkwardly, until Augus encouraged them to settle back down at his sides.

‘Not used to this at all,’ Augus said, and Gwyn couldn’t tell if he was supposed to answer or not. Gwyn didn’t think he could outright ask if Augus was unhappy. Maybe the gleam of it all had worn off now that they’d both come. Gwyn’s cock was softening, and the cobwebs were clearing, and he wondered if he’d just ruined everything.

‘You know I’m not,’ Gwyn said finally.

‘I know hardly anything about you,’ Augus said, reaching for the shampoo and then encouraging Gwyn’s head back under the shower spray. Fingers slid along his scalp, massaging deeply, and Gwyn’s eyes drifted shut. God, he was tired. That was so good. He groaned softly. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘Mmhm,’ Gwyn agreed, momentarily unable to think beyond what Augus was doing. Was this what it had been like for Augus? He’d never had anything like this. The closest he’d come was when he used to have to go to a salon to get his hair cut, and they sometimes did all of this first. But now he just got his hair cut, and washed it before he went.

‘What grades did you get last semester?’ Augus asked.

‘High Distinctions,’ Gwyn said. ‘Except in my elective. A Distinction in Geomorphology and Soils.’

‘Why the Distinction?’

‘I…don’t know,’ Gwyn said. ‘I don’t think I understand the material as well as I wanted to. I guess- I mean I studied, I just had other classes I liked more, but… Wasn’t like, an issue with the teacher or anything. Is this…job related?’

‘No,’ Augus said, laughing. ‘I saw your CV. I’m just giving your mind something to do. Your hair is very soft.’

‘Yeah,’ Gwyn said, not knowing what else to say. ‘My mind’s not that busy.’

‘Shh, all right, rinsing now. Close your eyes.’

Gwyn was speechless, touched, when a hand came to rest over his eyes protecting it from the shampoo. The water didn’t get that close anyway, but Gwyn liked it. Liked having his vision shaded by Augus’ hand, liked his other hand combing through his hair.

Then conditioner, and Gwyn wanted to go to his knees again, feeling lax and sleepy, sated and even a little cossetted. It was unlike anything else he’d known.

‘I’ve never done this before,’ Gwyn said.

‘Had your hair washed by someone else?’

‘Yeah, not like this.’

‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’ Augus said.

‘Yeah,’ Gwyn said, swallowing, as Augus’ thumbs massaged behind Gwyn’s ears. This would’ve turned him on so much if he hadn’t already come. ‘You have good hands.’

‘I do,’ Augus said, laughing. ‘They do just about anything I want them to.’

‘Your garden is so perfect.’

‘Not quite,’ Augus said, ‘but thank you.’

Gwyn was a bit taken aback by his own words. He felt drugged, his emotions drifting all over the place, and finally settling in some hazy place where Augus’ fingers stroked up through the nape of his neck into his hair over and over again, before tipping his head back into the flow of water once more.

‘Still can’t believe you make wooden dildos,’ Gwyn muttered.

‘We’ll make a believer out of you yet,’ Augus said, and Gwyn laughed a little. Augus laughed with him. This was nice. Was Augus nice though? Or was he just being nice because he was getting laid?

Once his hair was rinsed, he was surprised when Augus guided him back within his arms. Gwyn’s chest resting against Augus’ chest, his forehead resting on Augus’ shoulder, and Augus stroking his back in long, languid movements. Gwyn’s arms wrapped around Augus’ waist, and he pressed his fingers into the dip of Augus’ spine. He felt like his hands dwarfed Augus like this, which was strange, because he felt so small too. It was the feeling he got with certain trees. That he would be sheltered, no matter what he did, no matter how strong he was, or even how threatening, with his axe or chainsaw.

‘Busy, busy, busy,’ Augus said quietly, ‘I can hear it from here. Is that how you’re able to treat those trees so well? Ever taken an antidepressant?’

Gwyn started laughing, because it was not what he’d expected at all, and he drew away from Augus’ touch and was shaking his head, and Augus was pushing him towards the shower screen with an impish expression on his face.

He made Gwyn stay put on the fluffy bathmat, then covered him with a towel that was more like half a blanket, rubbing him dry, before ensconcing Gwyn’s head in the towel and picking with his hands until he exposed Gwyn’s face.

‘There you are,’ Augus said. ‘You never answered my question.’

‘Which one?’ Gwyn said, staring at him. ‘Antidepressants? Or how I’m able to treat trees so well?’

‘Honestly I can’t decide if I want to cherish you or rip you apart,’ Augus said, like they were having a different conversation. And with the towel around Gwyn’s face, with Augus’ hands around the towel, Gwyn felt himself suddenly contained and pinned in place, and he shuddered.

‘I have,’ Gwyn said, voice muffled and soft. ‘Didn’t help much.’

‘What did?’ Augus said, knowing what Gwyn was responding to.

‘Leaving.’

Augus nodded like he knew that was the answer all along, even though Gwyn had never known until he’d left. Hard to see what he was escaping, until he was somewhere they’d never come. Hardly anyone wanted to go to the most isolated major city in the world. Gwyn thought it was perfect.

‘What’s your favourite food?’ Augus said.

‘You’re like an internet quiz,’ Gwyn said, laughing again.

‘Do many of those?’ Augus slipped his fingers around Gwyn’s wrist and tugged him back to the bedroom, and Gwyn looked over his shoulder at his clothes on the floor and realised he wasn’t going to be getting dressed any time soon.

‘No. I mean, I’m not really about…all of that. I guess. But I’ve done some. What’s your favourite food?’

‘Roasted hazelnuts,’ Augus said immediately. ‘But not the kind that are from the store. The kind I roast myself, with a bit of sea salt. Chestnuts too. The first pea pod I pluck from my own garden, because it heralds an oncoming influx of great produce.’

‘Uh huh,’ Gwyn said, bumping into the bed. Augus pushed him onto it, and Gwyn fell back onto his ass, the towel still around his face. ‘I like Macca’s.’

Augus laughed like Gwyn had made an outrageous joke, and Gwyn had _sort_ of been joking, but not _that_ much.

‘Meat Candy,’ Gwyn said, slowly pulling the towel off his hand. ‘The fried chicken sambo, could eat ten at a time.’

‘I don’t get out enough,’ Augus said. ‘Otherwise I would have known by now to hate a place called Meat Candy. Instead, you’ve given me a gift. Another thing to hate.’

Gwyn rolled his eyes. So, Augus might have given Gwyn the best shower of his life (and _maybe_ the best orgasm), but he was still kind of a pretentious twat. But then, Augus had probably earned it, with the life he lived.

The towel dropped to the floor as he watched Augus at a chest of drawers, bringing out some paperwork. Gwyn frowned as Augus walked over, handing the paperwork to Gwyn.

‘You foolish boy,’ Augus said, his voice rich and warm, like it was praise. Gwyn stared down at the paperwork and realised it was Augus’ last STI panel.

‘Oh,’ Gwyn said.

Augus didn’t have anything, but Gwyn felt his cheeks colour, because he hadn’t expected this.

‘Yes, well,’ Augus said. ‘You strike me as the kind of boy that hasn’t yet run across any STIs yet, given how little you’ve thought about it. Especially with that busy mind of yours.’

‘Um, yeah,’ Gwyn said shakily. ‘I got tested like a year ago just to…just to see what it was like.’

He didn’t want to admit that he’d thought about whether Augus was clean for all of five seconds and then thought _Worth it_ before taking Augus’ cock into his mouth.

Augus sighed, smiled affectionately at him and walked over to the cabinets. Gwyn’s heartrate picked up as he held the paperwork. He didn’t really feel like being fucked now, even though he knew he’d probably get into it eventually. Gwyn wanted to ask if they should do this another time, but he also wanted to see what it would be like to just go along with what Augus wanted.

A click as one of the glass panels was opened, and Augus drew something out, angling himself so Gwyn couldn’t see. He made a sound with his mouth, a clicking of his tongue, like he wasn’t sure.

‘Turn around,’ Augus said softly. ‘I want you face down on the bed for now. No peeking.’

Gwyn didn’t move straight away. Augus hadn’t even turned to look at him. Eventually though – with Augus not moving as though he was waiting for Gwyn to comply – Gwyn dropped the paperwork on the floor and turned onto his stomach, feeling vulnerable on the large bed. The doona cover was cool beneath his shower-warmed body, the pillows comfortable. Gwyn had slept on high thread count sheets as a child and a teen, and he’d abandoned them when he moved, but now realised he missed the softness. He dragged his cheek along one of them, before resting with his head facing the other way.

‘Good,’ Augus said, and Gwyn didn’t even know if Augus was looking at him. ‘Are you a size queen, sweetheart?’

Gwyn swallowed. ‘I don’t…know.’

‘Yes, I do think our definitions on that might be different.’

The sound of something small landing on the bed.

‘We’ll start easy,’ Augus said. But then something a little heavier landed on the bed a moment later.

‘ _Start?’_

‘Have you never just fucked all day or all night for the sake of it?’ Augus asked, sounding bewildered, even though the words were soft. ‘Did you never just tumble some boy on a weekend, because you could? It’s a rite of passage. Fucking and, oh, I don’t know, I imagine you’d snack on _pizza_ when you remembered to, and of course you’d run out of lube, or condoms. And this is only a few hours, Gwyn. Not even that. I expect we’ll be done in an hour or two.’

Gwyn took a slow breath. Maybe he just wasn’t sensual in the same way that Augus was, but he didn’t think about sex like that.

‘As soon as I had my own place when I was old enough,’ Augus continued, ‘I…did that a fair amount.’

‘But with no pizza,’ Gwyn said.

‘Vegetarian pizza,’ Augus said, laughing. He crossed the room, opened a drawer, pulled out something else and threw that onto the bed. Then Augus got onto the bed, spreading Gwyn’s legs with his hands, and Gwyn wasn’t aroused by it, but he was breathless and curious.

‘Don’t you want me to do more?’

‘You’ll be doing plenty,’ Augus said, dragging the nails of one hand over the bare curve of Gwyn’s ass. ‘Don’t worry.’

‘I’m not really…ready to go.’

‘You will be,’ Augus said, stroking Gwyn’s back a few times before withdrawing his hand. The click of a cap, and Gwyn’s eyes were wide as he stared off into Augus’ room. His knees shifted, and he moved one of his arms so he could rest his forearm under the pillow. Augus’ bed smelled good. His pillows smelled good.

Gwyn tried not to startle when he felt cold lubricant being dragged over his entrance. He’d never fingered himself when he wasn’t hard. He didn’t know people did it. He managed to not squirm, and Augus’ fingers kept moving slowly, the lubricant warming naturally from the friction, from their combined body heat. It was like a really weird massage.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t asked me about splinters, or all the other things people usually ask me when I bring these out,’ Augus said.

Gwyn opened his mouth to reply, and then his teeth clacked together when he felt the blunt end of a cold, wooden dildo sliding through the lubricant Augus had warmed up. It didn’t seem huge, but it was definitely thicker than Augus’ fingers.

‘I guess…’ Gwyn said, his voice thin. ‘I guess…I don’t worry about splinters with tables and chairs and wooden bowls and…y’know.’

‘Yes, I say a version of that,’ Augus said. He’d shifted, and Gwyn couldn’t tell how he’d shifted until he felt teeth carefully bite into the skin of his ass. Gwyn gasped. His cock ached, like it was trying to get hard again and just couldn’t.

The dildo pushed down and poked at the back of Gwyn’s balls, and Gwyn groaned then, feeling uneasy. His balls were too sensitive at the best of times, and he’d never really liked people playing with them. If Augus was into that, Gwyn wouldn’t get turned on at all. His legs tensed to close, despite Augus’ knees being in the way.

‘Oh, not good,’ Augus murmured to himself, breath against Gwyn’s skin.

‘Sorry,’ Gwyn said as the dildo slid back up again.

‘Don’t be,’ Augus said easily. His other hand came up and stroked the side of Gwyn’s thigh, and it was clearly meant to be soothing. Gwyn sighed, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

Augus continued to stroke him, moved the dildo in languid strokes that put Gwyn at ease. Then, the angle of his hand changed, and Augus pushed the dildo into him. It was a firm, careful push that breached him and then just as Gwyn’s head lifted at the sensation of it, the dildo slid in on an easy movement until Augus’ fingertips rested at his hole, holding onto the base.

Gwyn’s whole body tensed, even his entrance clenched down, not that it made any difference. It’d hardly hurt. He’d felt the stretch of it, but he was already loose from Augus’ fingers before, and the dildo wasn’t large at all. It was just the shock, the gears changing at a time when Gwyn hadn’t expected it.

‘There,’ Augus said. ‘You took that very easily. I think we won’t need to use this one for long.’

Gwyn focused on breathing as Augus began to work the dildo in and out of him, twisting it, his hand moving faster than before. Gwyn wanted to make some joke about Augus’ wrist action, but he didn’t want to talk.

He wasn’t hard, he wasn’t getting hard, and his prostate was too sensitive – but Augus was avoiding it. Gwyn felt like some kind of ornament, or furniture, something for Augus to work however he wanted. What shocked him was how much he liked it. Just lying there, letting Augus do what he wanted, and he groaned again.

‘So,’ Augus said, massaging his thumb firmly into Gwyn’s lower back with his other hand. ‘Too big? Too small? Be honest.’

‘It’s…small,’ Gwyn said.

‘It is. It’s a good size to open you up, I think, but we’ll try something else.’

Gwyn’s skin prickled, but he nodded, and then almost flinched at the casual, quick way Augus pulled the dildo out of him and dropped it somewhere on the bed. Augus reached across Gwyn’s back, and then there was more cold lubricant. Gwyn breathed through his nose and wasn’t sure how he’d keep coming back to this house, after everything. Knowing Augus had seen him like this. Knowing that Augus was…who he was.

The next dildo, Gwyn couldn’t see it, but it felt much larger, and it was textured. Bumps or…a vein…Gwyn couldn’t tell. This one pressed flat between his ass cheeks, spreading them, sliding up and down, making Gwyn feel stretched even though Augus hadn’t pressed it in yet. It felt at least double the size of the previous one, and Gwyn tried not to moan at the thought of what it would feel like inside him. Realised, belatedly, that even though his cock was still soft, he was getting turned on at the thought.

A couple of minutes later, Gwyn’s hips shifting backwards without him even thinking about it, Augus tilted the dildo and pressed it in, and Gwyn stilled when he felt the way his skin stretched and then pulled tight. It was _much_ larger than the previous one.

‘Ah, look at that,’ Augus said quietly, pushing it deeper so that Gwyn felt his skin continue to move in ways that weren’t quite natural. The head of the thing wasn’t even completely in him yet.

‘It’s…’ Gwyn said, and then flushed further when he realised _It’s big_ just sounded too much like a line from some video he’d downloaded.

‘Yes,’ Augus said, ‘it is.’

Gwyn groaned when Augus twisted it, which made Gwyn’s skin feel fragile, nervy, and he tried not to clench down and failed, absently bunching up the pillow beneath his head with both of his hands and breathing into it. Gwyn wanted to ask what size it was, he hadn’t looked, he didn’t know. Didn’t ask just in case Augus said it was regular, and Gwyn just hadn’t been fucked in so long that he’d forgotten what an average cock felt like.

As it pushed deeper, Gwyn bit the inside of his lip and felt his thighs bunch, his knees dig into the bed, even as he tried to keep his ass relaxed, open as much as possible. It did have bumps on it, maybe a vein, there were shifts in the smooth wood that forced him open, and he felt each one through the lubricant.

A slow rocking motion, Augus pulling the dildo out a little, sliding it deeper each time, until Gwyn felt Augus’ knuckles pressing hard against his ass cheeks and felt the toy inside of him, and felt heavy and full and stretched and like he didn’t want to move for fear of jostling it too much even though it hadn’t really hurt him. It just felt…big, uncomfortable, _new._ A sliver of embarrassment that someone was seeing him like this, instead of him being able to do this to himself at home, with no one watching him pant, watching the noises he was making.

Augus’ other hand alternatively stroked or scratched at the muscles of his back, and then shifted until he could press his chest to Gwyn’s back, never letting go of the toy inside of him. Augus’ hair fell damply around him, and then Augus was pressing his nose, his mouth, into the side of Gwyn’s face.

‘You took it all,’ Augus said, voice deeper than before, ‘but my, you should have seen the way your shoulders heaved. Difficult?’

Gwyn cleared his throat, turned his face away from Augus’, and then towards him. He was too close to look into his eyes, instead Augus’ lips resting on his cheek, on his eyebrow. It was all overwhelming, and Gwyn wished Augus would kiss him, or just… _do_ something.

‘Hard yet?’ Augus said.

‘Not- Uh, a bit,’ Gwyn said.

‘And what do you think of my craftsmanship?’

Gwyn laughed breathlessly, then moaned as Augus twisted the dildo inside of him, back and forth, making Gwyn’s whole body squirm.

‘Hm?’ Augus said.

‘ _Shit.’_ Gwyn clawed absently at the pillow, tilted his head away from Augus’ face, and then back towards him. ‘It’s…ah, you’re- I guess- It’s…smooth?’

Augus laughed low, the sound satisfied. ‘Come on, you can do better than that.’

‘Really can’t,’ Gwyn said.

‘Do you want to go another size up?’

_‘Ha,_ ’ Gwyn breathed. ‘Not- Not today?’

‘No, not today,’ Augus echoed, drawing the dildo back and thrusting hard enough that Gwyn shouted. ‘I think this will do nicely.’

_‘Fuck.’_

‘Oh no,’ Augus said ruefully. ‘You’re a little addictive, aren’t you?’

With that, Augus moved back a little, braced his legs – spreading them between Gwyn’s inner thighs – and began fucking him with strong, heavy movements of his wrist. The quicker, longer motions moved all those bumps and other textures over his hole so quickly that Gwyn was unable to focus. He was flooded with sensation, and all Augus was doing was fucking him with a polished piece of wood. Gwyn didn’t have enough presence of mind to be embarrassed anymore.

He groaned and then his hips twisted when Augus began angling the dildo so it would slide heavily against his prostate. That was a dull soreness in his bladder, the sense that he was almost bruised, but it was distantly good, the promise of something coming, and he slid a hand over his mouth as he moaned thickly. He could feel that he was getting hard, though much slower than usual, but then he never normally forced himself to come more than once and all of this was now new to him. He didn’t know exactly what his body would do, and Augus seemed happy to find out.

It wasn’t like when he’d fucked people in the past, and it’d been two to three minutes of thrusting and then it was over. No one he’d ever slept with expected it to last _longer._ Gwyn knew they’d passed the two-to-three minute mark, and then he belatedly realised that Augus might have been serious about fucking him for an hour or two, and Gwyn thought that couldn’t be good for his _ass,_ because even with lubricant, the friction was wearing him out.

He’d gone from trying to stay silent, to letting himself make noises occasionally, to hardly caring what sounds he made or didn’t make. His hair – previously damp from the shower – was turning sweaty. Augus didn’t talk much, and his wrist didn’t seem to tire out, and at one point when he deliberately pushed down into Gwyn’s prostate so hard that Gwyn cried out pleadingly, Augus only laughed darkly and kept doing it.

‘Please,’ Gwyn rasped, ‘please, _please-’_

‘Are you hard yet?’ Augus said.

Gwyn nodded, of course he was, his hips had been rocking into the bed for some time – not even of his own volition half the time, Augus’ movements were more than enough to do that. His cock felt sensitive still, but it pressed hard into his belly, into the blankets.

‘Close?’ Augus said.

‘No, _Augus,_ come on, just-’

‘If I told you that you were doing _very_ well, would you put up with it for me?’ Augus said, a particularly savage thrust making Gwyn’s shoulders bunch. It was like when Augus’ entire attitude had changed in the shower, gentle blowjob turning into something vicious, and it shouldn’t have made Gwyn as hot as it did, but Gwyn loved it. Was terrified of it, but still loved it.

‘Y-yes,’ Gwyn said weakly.

‘Then you’re doing _very_ well, sweetheart,’ Augus said, and the heavy, targeted thrusts continued, and Gwyn squeezed his burning eyes shut and thought that probably no one’s ass was made for this.

It continued until it coasted past too much and Gwyn gave serious thought to using either of the words Augus had given him. But just as he was sure he’d have to force Augus to slow down, Augus’ wrist lightened, the movements became slower, easier, and Gwyn’s tense, shaking thighs slumped into the bed.

He’d never thought being thoroughly fucked but just _not as hard_ would be a break, but it was, and he took it. His breathing became less fraught, began to slow, and he tentatively pulsed his hips and cock down into the blankets, then did it again when he realised how good it felt. God, he was much closer than before. He’d thought it would take forever. He shifted automatically, rocking back onto his knees and then getting his forearms beneath his shoulders, pushing his hips up and moving his hand between his legs.

‘Now, now, sweetheart,’ Augus said, making the movements of the dildo shallow, less deep, ‘wait for me. You can wait a bit longer, can’t you?’

‘Feels good,’ Gwyn said against the blanket, his fingers stopping just shy of his cock.

‘That’s the point,’ Augus laughed. ‘But don’t you want to just sit in the pleasure a bit longer? Though you can stay in this position if you want. That’s lush.’

Augus’ other hand stroked the inside of his thigh. Gwyn trembled, and then dropped his hand so that the back of it hit the blanket, his fingers curling around air instead of around himself.

‘It’s…not normally like this.’

‘Well, yes, that’s obvious to all, I’d expect,’ Augus said, pushing the dildo deep before sliding it back with a long, smooth movement that made Gwyn feel used and hollow all at once. He groaned brokenly, fingers opening and closing where he wanted desperately to get a hand on himself. He was going to sleep _so well._ He was going to drive home, get burgers for dinner, eat them all while they were still hot in the car, and then just fall into some kind of fucked-out coma. He wanted to do it _now,_ except he didn’t want to miss any of what was happening.

‘Will you be my Dom, some time?’ Gwyn said, his voice a slight slur.

‘Yes,’ Augus said, and Gwyn smiled into the blankets and thought _Score_ and then thought that maybe he should care more about professionalism and keeping his _job._ But he didn’t. He could get work. It seemed a lot harder to find _this._

Because this was turning his thoughts to mush, making his wrist tense with wanting to jack himself off. This was listening to Augus and wanting to know how much further he could go and knowing it would go _further_ with Augus.

‘Can we fuck in your garden?’

_‘Yes,’_ Augus said, laughing warmly, like Gwyn had said something especially pleasing. ‘Speaking of, I’m going to fuck you now, actually.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, I think so.’

Augus let go of the dildo while it was pushed deep inside of him and then rose up into a kneeling position, rubbing his cock against Gwyn’s thigh. Then with a yank that made Gwyn’s gut feel like it was falling, Augus pulled the dildo free and pushed himself in.

Gwyn realised two things: it’d been way too long since he’d last been fucked, because Augus felt _huge,_ and second, Augus didn’t seem to be fully hard yet. It didn’t matter, Gwyn had been fucked open enough that Augus could slide straight in, pushing deeper than the dildo, forcing a moan out of Gwyn’s throat. Augus’ cock wasn’t as hard and unforgiving as the wood, it didn’t have the same texture, but it was still a lot.

He slumped forwards, and Augus curved over him, pressing his chest to Gwyn’s back, sliding a hand beneath them both and stroking Gwyn’s belly in ticklish, teasing circles.

‘You do feel good,’ Augus said, sounding more breathless than before as he started up a firm rhythm. ‘I couldn’t wait.’

‘M’glad,’ Gwyn managed.

Augus’ pelvis knocked into Gwyn’s ass over and over again, one hand gripping Gwyn and keeping him in place, the other loosely holding Gwyn’s cock. Gwyn could hear him breathing, the harsher puffs of exertion, the occasional held back noise. Gwyn pushed back into the thrusts, flooded by everything, dazed and wanting.

Gwyn didn’t know how long Augus fucked him for. It felt like ages before Augus began slowly moving his hand on Gwyn’s cock, before their breathing was loud and Augus was biting repeatedly into the meat of Gwyn’s shoulders, making him hiss and shake. Gwyn’s thighs were beginning to ache from the position, his back felt like it would be dipped in permanently, making room for what felt like Augus reworking Gwyn into a new shape. He cried out thickly, and Augus responded by biting him so viciously that Gwyn’s ass clenched down hard and Augus grunted behind him.

It was a thrill, to make Augus feel good, to give him anything like that. Gwyn wanted to do it again, but his ass was worn out.

Another few minutes, and Gwyn forgot about everything except _needing_ to come, and absently reaching up and touching Augus’ hand around him, as though that would make him work Gwyn’s cock harder, faster. As though it would turn the ache and need of Augus’ cock over his prostate into him spilling all over the bed. He tried to say please, but was too busy breathing, faint pleading noises falling from his parted lips.

Mercifully, Augus’ hand tightened, his thrusts sped up, and Gwyn wanted to wait until Augus had come but his body galloped on ahead and it took no time at all for his gut to clench, his lower back tightening and his balls pulling up, and then he was spending painfully, wonderfully, over Augus’ fingers, overheated and shouting into the bunched up pillow beneath his face.

Augus kept fucking him, first working him through it, and then going on beyond that, at a point when Gwyn’s ass was just _sore_ and too open and he forced himself not to ask Augus to stop because he knew Augus was close. But it hurt, he was done, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Augus had been so good to him, Gwyn would’ve safeworded out of this part and skipped the section where he wondered if Augus’ cock had turned into some kind of low-grade sandpaper.

Probably they should have replaced the lubricant at some point.

It was only another minute before Augus was stilling, groaning thickly, coming inside of him. His hands were cruel, making bruises where they gripped Gwyn’s hips, and Gwyn just slumped in the relief of it being over and the realisation that there was a kind of thrill in being used past his ability to gain any physical pleasure from what was happening. That was a dangerous realisation. He wasn’t sure if he liked knowing that about himself.

Augus withdrew and Gwyn made a sound of discomfort, even as Augus laughed and petted his ass, before pushing Gwyn onto his side.

‘You just rest, sweetheart, I’ll get everything cleaned up.’

‘Sure,’ Gwyn said, without even opening his eyes. ‘I’m dead. You killed me. How can you be like a hundred and have all that stamina?’

‘Oh,’ Augus said, sounding amused. ‘Maybe I’m sensitive about my age. Maybe I’ll take you over my knee about it one day. But not today. It’s not ethical to hit a corpse.’

Gwyn groaned in agreement, shifting his legs and wrinkling his face at the sweat and lubricant and come he could feel between his ass cheeks, making them slide together when he shifted his legs. Gross. This part was gross.

Augus moved around the bed and Gwyn fell into a doze, hardly paying attention. He felt like a rude guest, a rude bedpartner, but he’d also never been pushed this hard before and was still kind of reeling.

‘You’re a lot,’ Gwyn said, as he heard Augus walking around the room.

‘Am I?’

‘I think you know you are.’

‘I think I know that too,’ Augus said, humming quietly to himself. The sound of some kind of spray, and Gwyn wondered if he was spray cleaning the dildos or something. He didn’t bother looking. ‘So if we’re joking about how old I am, are we joking about how young and inexperienced you are?’

‘No,’ Gwyn muttered. ‘That’s rude.’

‘You’re a brat,’ Augus said, as though he’d just learned something that Gwyn had known about himself all his life. ‘You were all attentive and proper and obedient out there, but it turns out you’re actually a brat.’

‘I’m not _that_ inexperienced.’

Augus said nothing for a while, and then just laughed. He disappeared into the bathroom – Gwyn heard the taps as he began to fall asleep – and then came back. And then Gwyn squawked when a cold flannel wiped between his ass crack.

‘Cold!’ he yelped. The cloth dug in deep, scoring over his tender hole, and his hips jerked away. ‘You bastard.’

‘Waking up a bit now?’ Augus said lightly. The cloth rubbed some more, was withdrawn, and Gwyn had to admit that it _felt_ less gross than before, but it was still… _well_.  

‘Fuck,’ Gwyn groaned. ‘I was never asleep. Are you kicking me out?’

A pause, and Gwyn realised from the way Augus hadn’t moved at all, that maybe it was more than just Augus wandering around the room. He turned onto his back and looked at Augus, at the serious expression on his face.

‘Sorry,’ Gwyn said automatically. ‘I can go. Seriously. Of course you’d-’

‘Do you want to stay?’ Augus said, lifting an eyebrow.

_I don’t even know if I’m fucking safe to drive home with how tired I am._

But that wasn’t why he wanted to stay. His cheeks coloured, he felt them warm, hated that he was so transparent. It’d been like this when he was a kid. His parents had loved it. They always knew when he was lying or ashamed or embarrassed or flustered.

‘I’m just saying-’

‘Do you _want_ to stay?’ Augus said, his voice harder, and Gwyn pressed his lips together.

‘I dunno,’ Gwyn said, looking down at the bed. ‘Maybe. I guess. If you want. If you don’t though, then don’t worry about it, I’ll just turn up at my next shift and-’

‘You can stay,’ Augus said. ‘It wasn’t a trick question. I wasn’t asking you so that you’d tell me ‘yes’ and then I’d still send you away. I don’t really work like that. It would be pleasant to have you stay, I think. I suppose we’re well past professional boundaries. Aren’t we?’

‘I mean I’m just staying tonight,’ Gwyn said. ‘I could go back to whatever you wanted.’

The thought of losing the opportunity to visit Augus and Augus’ garden was way more frightening to him, than…getting what he wanted and scaring Augus away. He didn’t even know exactly what he wanted.

Augus climbed onto the bed and straddled Gwyn’s hips – still naked – his hands pressing down either side of Gwyn’s shoulders. He stared down at him, and then Gwyn tensed in surprise when Augus lowered down and pressed his lips to Gwyn’s.

The kiss was almost chaste. It was slow, only a little wet, and Gwyn opened his mouth to it, and felt the small glance of Augus’ tongue against his own before Augus moved back and looked down at him again.

‘You’ve not lost your job,’ Augus said, his voice soft. ‘But we’re well past professional boundaries, and I’m not interested in pretending that we’re not. All right?’

He lifted his hand and combed his fingers through Gwyn’s hair, never looking away.

‘O-okay,’ Gwyn said. ‘Cool.’

_‘Cool,’_ Augus said, and then he dropped his forehead to Gwyn’s. His breath coasting over Gwyn’s cheek in a silent laugh. Gwyn knew it was the word, but he didn’t care. He reached up and carefully wound his arms around Augus’ waist, dragging him down until they were body to body, and then he sighed, because it felt really good. There was still come leaking out of his ass, but it was easier to ignore.

‘So I can sleep now?’ Gwyn said, smiling a little.

‘Yes,’ Augus said. ‘You can sleep now.’

‘Can I kiss you?’

Augus turned so that they could press their lips together again, and Gwyn’s hands tightened on Augus’ waist, holding him close. He sent a silent thanks to Gulvi for putting the rainbow Pride sticker on his ute when he wasn’t looking.

The languid kissing came to a natural end, and Gwyn knew he couldn’t sleep with Augus lying on top of him like this, but he didn’t care. Augus felt good. He couldn’t believe that the guy whose photo he’d stared at in a magazine once, whose garden was the most beautiful piece of land he’d ever laid eyes on, would also be…this. It was too early to commit to big emotions, but the feelings swirled around inside of Gwyn anyway, and he wanted to explore them, and he couldn’t believe Augus seemed to want that too.

‘You have an active mind,’ Augus said. ‘I like it. I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Gwyn.’

‘Me too,’ Gwyn said, his voice a bit rusty. Then he smirked. ‘I mean, getting to know you. Like, I have to ask, are you on antidepressants?’

Augus laughed in surprise, and then his arms shifted and he was holding Gwyn tightly.

‘And did you always know you were super pretentious about food?’ Gwyn said, grinning.

‘Imp,’ Augus said, pinching Gwyn’s side.

‘Why is your fashion sense so weird?’

Gwyn burst into laughter when Augus began outright tickling him, and soon they were wrestling each other, as Gwyn tried to get him to stop. Eventually they ended up side by side, facing each other, and Augus had a pleased light in his green eyes, fingers still resting on Gwyn’s sides.

‘I thought you were tired,’ Augus said.

‘I really am,’ Gwyn said fervently.

Eventually they got under the covers, and Gwyn felt himself warm up quickly, his fingers tangling with Augus’, an ankle sliding between his ankles until a calf rested between his calves.

Gwyn thought they’d talk quietly, but instead, Gwyn’s tiredness crashed back into him, and he closed his eyes just as Augus began to do the same. As they tilted towards each other, Gwyn thought of trees that had no crown shyness, he thought of branches entwining and the symbiotic relationships between gardens and pollinators. He thought of how good it felt to be warm in bed with another person, how good it felt for his body to be sore and well-used.

He thought, with a smile, that it wasn’t even that late and they’d skipped dinner and they’d probably wake up later, ravenous and hungry for food and each other, and he wanted all of it. Even the vegetarian pizza.

But for now, he wanted to sleep next to Augus, surrounded by landscaped and semi-wild gardens, in a home that felt like home, even though he’d only known it for a day.


End file.
